


but nothing else abides

by aliatori



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Genital Piercing, M/M, Piercings, Smut, bottom!gladio, ok more like power bottom Gladio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 03:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13941759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: Ignis is driven to distraction by one of Gladio's many piercings.





	but nothing else abides

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the inimitable [@Xylianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna), who constantly supports me even when I'm being silly. Any remaining mistakes are all me.
> 
> This trash offering dedicated to the Gladnis fam - you know who you are.

The Six-damned clicking is driving Ignis utterly mad.

He considers getting up from his desk and crossing the living room to turn on the modest stereo in the opposite corner; the soft, soothing sounds of _Inlustris_ would be far preferable to the tapping of Gladio’s piercing against his teeth. But Ignis knows two things will happen if he does so: he’ll be forced to _look_ at Gladio, which is infinitely more dangerous to his productivity than the incessant noise, and Gladio will know his ploy is working. Ignis assumes a deliberateness to the act—he may not be a strategist in title, but when it comes to Ignis, Gladio exploits his known weaknesses with brutal efficiency.

Ignis realizes he’s read the same paragraph four times in succession without absorbing any of its contents. While important, collating the latest information from the Crown City statistics bureau about the influx of refugees for Noctis doesn’t hold a candle to the promise of time alone with Gladio. They’ve both been so busy the past few weeks that Ignis would need to consult his calendar to verify the last time they were able to meet outside of work.

After a pause in which Ignis removes his glasses and cleans them despite their spotless lenses, he dives back in, determined to make some sort of headway this evening. _Accurate estimations are made all the more difficult by those persons who remain missing or whose status cannot be verified…_

With the assistance of Ebony and his iron will, Ignis manages to ignore the sound of clicking, page turning, and the occasional amused snort from Gladio’s direction. He becomes so engrossed that Gladio’s voice startles him, his pen jolting across the page and marring its otherwise pristine surface.

“Hey, Iggy? It’s after eight,” Gladio says.

Ignis turns his head towards the sound of Gladio’s voice and realizes his mistake as soon as he makes it. Summer means his apartment runs warmer than usual, which in turn means Gladio shirks what he considers unnecessary articles of clothing more than usual. He’s stretched out on the couch, one knee bent and the other leg extended, ankle resting on the far armrest. Gladio’s midnight blue Crownsguard sweats dip low enough on one side of his waist for Ignis to know without a doubt that there’s no underwear beneath them; the sight of the sharp, exposed hipbone and thatch of dark hair makes Ignis’s mouth go dry. Gladio shifts, causing his defined abdominal muscles to bunch and flex as he moves.

Gods, he’s so gorgeous that it sends an ache through Ignis; the ache starts in his heart, spreads down his chest, and kindles to a low burn in his groin.

Despite his best efforts to re-focus, Ignis’s gaze snaps to the dusky pink nipples beneath the bold design of Gladio’s tattoo, nipples accented by modest black bars. Ignis fights back a sudden urge to climb on top of Gladio, to straddle him right on the couch, to lower his head to Gladio’s chest and take one of those nipples between his lips, to work the piercing with his tongue until Gladio’s breathing quickens and…

Report. Deadline. Right. 

“Y’know, my eyes are up here,” Gladio says, a teasing edge to his tone now.

Ignis clears his throat—the jagged line of ink has expanded along the entire page of his report due to his distraction—and tries to ignore the fact that he’s half-hard in his dress slacks.

“Five more minutes?” Ignis asks, proud that the question comes out steady.

Gladio grins at him from his upside down vantage point on the couch, rich brown hair hanging over the edge of the armrest and amber eyes glittering. He sticks his tongue out just enough to rest the silver stud of his piercing against his teeth and run it in a slow line along the top row. Ignis’s mind immediately jumps to that tongue on other, more intimate parts of himself and can’t help the shudder that courses through his body.

“Five more minutes,” Gladio agrees in a dark rumble, “then I’m takin’ matters into my own hands.”

Ignis glances from Gladio to his report to Gladio again, drinking in the delicious expanse of his muscular body. He wishes vaguely that there was some kind of arbitrary rule against the Prince’s Shield having so many delightful—and distracting—body modifications, but aside from Clarus’s vocal opinions on the public image of an Amicitia, no one seems to mind overmuch.

Ignis doesn’t mind either—in fact, quite the opposite—but Astrals, it multiplies Gladio’s magnetism tenfold.

He decides to copy the ruined page of his report onto a fresh sheet of paper before attempting to reach a decent stopping point in his work. Ignis knows his allotted five minutes have elapsed when he feels Gladio kiss the top of his head, followed by those strong, calloused hands running down the front his chest.

“Time’s up,” Gladio says.

A protest rests on the tip of Ignis’s tongue, a protest that dies when Gladio moves his lips to the side of Ignis’s neck. He’s still wearing his work clothes, so the starched collar of his dress shirt blocks full access, but that doesn’t deter Gladio in the slightest. As he begins to unbutton Ignis’s shirt, he trails his tongue upwards toward his jaw, the hard metal nub of his piercing and the wet warmth contrasting in a way that makes Ignis’s insides melt. When he reaches Ignis’s ear, he adds teeth to the mix, nibbling at the delicate flesh there.

“Gladio,” Ignis breathes, his pen falling from his hand, “Oh, that feels divine.” He realizes Gladio’s pushed the fabric of his shirt aside to bare a shoulder when he dips his head to lap at the skin there, tracing patterns in the sensitive juncture with that damnably talented tongue.

“We’re just gettin’ started,” Gladio says, his lips brushing against Ignis’s collarbone as he speaks. With Ignis’s shirt unbuttoned, Gladio’s hands have moved to his belt, undoing the buckle with a practiced motion. “I ain’t lettin’ you work for the rest of the night. First, I’m gonna get you out of these clothes,” he starts, pressing a chaste kiss to Ignis’s neck, “and then I’m gonna lay you on the bed, get between your legs, and suck that gorgeous cock of yours,” he continues, pausing to kiss Ignis’s cheek, “and once you’re nice and ready for me, I’m gonna ride you so you can enjoy the view, until you call my name as you come inside me.”

Ignis theoretically remembers how to use language, but Gladio’s words rob him of the ability for several long seconds. It doesn’t help when Gladio reaches down and palms him through the thin fabric of his trousers with enough pressure to make Ignis roll his hips upward, craving more.

“Promises, promises,” Ignis tuts, aiming for lofty but hitting breathless instead. He’s already maneuvered himself out of Gladio’s reach to stand from his chair, pushing it under the desk from habit. His shirt falls to the floor, exposing his own chest to the air; the fact that Ignis leaves it in a heap on the floor is a testament to how much Gladio’s words have affected him.

They’re kissing before Ignis registers movement on either of their parts, his lips parting for Gladio’s clever and persistent tongue. Ignis doesn’t bother stifling his quiet moan as Gladio rolls his tongue against Ignis’s, arching his back when Gladio grabs his hips and pulls him closer. They exchange heated, wet, languid kisses that increase in intensity each time they meet. Ignis has long since determined that he could kiss Gladio forever, in a hundred thousand ways, but the way Gladio laps at his lips and presses the ball of his piercing against them before delving into Ignis’s mouth again… it makes him want much more than kissing.

Endless love and weeks of unfulfilled need rise like a tide in Ignis, a tide of desire he has no intention of resisting. He reaches upward with his hands, debating for a fraction of an instant on where to place said hands, and then glides his palms along the chiseled length of Gladio’s obliques. Ignis settles for wrapping one arm around Gladio’s neck, clinging to him like a lifeline. He brushes the fingertips of his free hand against one of Gladio’s nipples with featherlight pressure, the metal bar warm beneath his touch. 

“Tease,” Gladio says when they break apart. His sweatpants do nothing to conceal his erection, an erection that Gladio grinds against Ignis’s thigh. His pupils are wide already, black encroaching on the lovely ring of amber.

Ignis arches an eyebrow and tugs Gladio’s nipple without warning, firmly enough to draw a gasp from Gladio. He—and his now aching cock—enjoys the sound so much that he does it again right after, harder, relishing the clench of Gladio’s fingers against the muscle of his ass. He rolls flesh and piercing alike between thumb and forefinger, skirting dangerously close to the edge where the sensation would tip into pain, and watches the flush that suffuses Gladio’s cheeks with piqued interest.

“Bedroom. Now,” Gladio growls.

“I seem to recall a certain someone saying—” Ignis begins, his words cut off with an undignified yelp as Gladio bends down, lifts him, and tosses him over his shoulder. As he starts towards the bedroom, Ignis writhes in his grip, hissing out a protest. “Gladio! Put me down _this instant_.”

“Nuh uh. Not happening,” Gladio replies, swatting Ignis’s ass with sting if not force, and continuing on his way.

Ignis can feel his unbelted slacks sliding down his hips as Gladio carts him down the hallway. If he wasn’t already monstrously turned on, he’d perhaps be more annoyed at the manhandling, but the fact that Gladio can perform this feat at all is a little arousing in and of itself. Ignis knows he’s not a small or light man, but Gladio carries him as though he weighs nothing at all, his strong arms wrapped around the backs of Ignis’s knees.

“You’re such an animal when you get impatient,” Ignis says as Gladio nudges the bedroom door open with a hip, his view skewed from his current angle and mostly full of the tattooed skin of Gladio’s back.

“I dunno, Iggy. I don’t think I’m the only one who’s impatient, if that once over you were givin’ me earlier is anything to go by,” Gladio replies, tossing Ignis onto the bed without ceremony.

Ignis huffs out a breath as he bounces on the mattress, thankful for its soft cushion. “You’ve only yourself to blame, clicking that bedamned tongue piercing for an hour straight,” he murmurs, but there’s no heat in the words. His eyes are pinned to Gladio as he slides down his trackpants without preamble at the edge of the bed. His own cock stirs at the sight of Gladio’s, fully hard with a single bead of precome glistening at the tip. The two silver bars that decorate Gladio’s frenulum are still new enough that Ignis’s eyes roll back in his head at the sight of them, his lust spiking.

Gladio must notice, because he laughs and climbs up on the bed beside Ignis, his hands working to free Ignis from his slacks. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that look on your face. Shoulda got these done _way_ earlier.” To accentuate his point, he pauses and grabs his cock, running his thumb along the piercings. Ignis thinks for a tremulous moment that he might faint before they get to anything remotely resembling sex.

“Keep… keep doing that, please,” Ignis says, unable to keep the tremble from his voice. He props himself up on his elbows to better maintain his view.

“What? This?” Gladio asks, too innocent. He sits back on his knees and takes his length in hand, stroking himself, his thumb teasing those Six-damned piercings on each upward pass. Each and every part of Gladio has always been breathtakingly gorgeous, his cock included, but Ignis loves it even more with the additional decoration.

“Gods, Gladiolus,” Ignis breathes the two words with reverence, desire sparking along his nerves like lightning. 

Having found new motivation to be divested of clothing as quickly as possible, Ignis lifts his hips off the bed and shucks off his trousers. The socks and garters take a bit more effort, but he puts his flexibility to good use, his eyes never leaving Gladio as he joins him in full nudity.

Gladio lets his hand fall away from himself as he reaches over to the bedside table. Ignis recognizes the familiar, nondescript bottle of lubricant that Gladio retrieves and places beside himself on the bed. One calloused palm strokes Ignis in a continuous line from thigh to neck, the simple touch enough to send a flare of heat through Ignis’s belly. 

“Mmmm, Iggy, that’s more like it,” Gladio says as he parts Ignis’s thighs and settles between them. Then, his voice dropping a half-octave and resonating in Ignis’s chest, “Knees up. I’ve been wanting to do this for fuckin’ _days_.”

Ignis lays back on the bed and hesitates, not because he doesn’t want Gladio to go down on him, but because he can’t decide what he wants the most. Taking Gladio in his own mouth, sucking on his length, tracing those entrancing bars with his tongue, tasting the intoxicating musk and salt that is unique to Gladio—that idea appeals to Ignis almost as much as Gladio’s initial proposal. He wants all of Gladio, all the time, so much so that it’s an effort to keep it contained to lengthy showers and private nighttime pursuits when Ignis can’t have the man himself.

“ _Ignis_.” Gladio’s eyes burn with desire as he meets Ignis’s gaze, a gaze that makes Ignis’s cock twitch and leak with its intensity. He relents under Gladio’s regard, drawing his knees up. Ignis’s cheeks heat at the way the position exposes his most intimate places; he knows Gladio could accomplish his goal just fine in other ways, but he also knows that Gladio enjoys the lewd sight of Ignis spread out for him.

A flutter bounces around his stomach as Gladio kisses his way down Ignis’s leg, starting at the side of his knee and working his way lower. He can scarcely believe Gladio wants him, _is his_ , even as he watches Gladio’s full, warm lips kiss his skin, alternating between firm and delicate presses. Ignis reaches a hand between his legs to touch the side of Gladio’s face, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, his pointer finger tracing the black gauge stretching the bottom of it as he does.

“Gods, Gladio, I’ve missed this, I’ve missed _you_ ,” Ignis says, his lips shaping the words without conscious effort on his behalf. His limbs begin to tremble as Gladio reaches his inner thigh, dragging his tongue along the sensitive flesh there. Gladio’s piercing creates a firm, hard sensation amidst the soft warmth of Gladio’s lips and mouth, a sensation that further builds Ignis’s desire. “ _I want you._ ”

“Oh, you’ll have me, alright,” Gladio chuckles and dips his head to the juncture where Ignis’s thigh meets hip, his breath ghosting hot and moist across Ignis’s skin. He’s so damned close to where Ignis wants him to be, close enough that he fists his hands in the sheets and bites back a groan. Gladio licks up and down the crease of Ignis’s thigh with the flat of his tongue, gliding flesh and metal alike along the groove, and Ignis _does_ moan then.

Ignis reaches down and twines a hand in Gladio’s hair, threading his fingers and getting a sturdy grip. “Gladiolus, _please_. Now who’s teasing?” he asks, breath hitching at the tail end of the question.

“Gladiolus please _what_ ,” Gladio says, hands braced on the outside of Ignis’s thighs. He rests his lips against the head of Ignis’s cock and Ignis bucks his hips upward in response.

“You’re going to torment me until I say it, aren’t you?” Ignis questions, biting his lip as Gladio rubs his own lips along Ignis’s aching shaft.

“Guy’s gotta have some fun,” Gladio murmurs, tongue darting out to give Ignis a single lick before retreating.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ignis uses the swear deliberately and is rewarded with Gladio’s sharp hiss and muffled groan, “Use your mouth on me, please, Gladiolus, I _need_ you.”

“That’ll work,” Gladio purrs, and then he’s taking Ignis’s cock in his mouth in earnest, most of his length enveloped by searing, intense heat.

Ignis covers his mouth with one hand and keeps his other tangled in Gladio’s hair, stifling his cries with his palm. He’s not usually this vocal, but the combination of the wait and the thrilling warmth of Gladio’s mouth on his cock draws a litany of sinful noises from him. His eyes screw shut with pleasure as Gladio takes the head of his cock between his lips and traces it with his pierced tongue, applying just enough pressure to make Ignis arch his back off the bed. His hips cant upward, urging Gladio to take more of him into his mouth.

Gladio groans around Ignis’s cock and obliges, swallowing him down until Ignis can feel his lips against the base of his shaft. Gladio presses the flat of his tongue against Ignis, flicking his piercing from side to side against the bottom of his cock—the intensity of the sensation makes Ignis bite down on his thumb to stop the long, loud moan that would otherwise escape. Dimly he registers the click of a bottle cap, but then Gladio’s taking him in his mouth again, all warmth and suction and pressure, and Ignis loses his train of thought.

Ignis pants behind his hand, a spiral of heat and pleasure coiling behind his navel. He opens his eyes and risks a glance at Gladio. Ignis lets his hand drop from his mouth, not bothering to hide the keen that rises in his throat or to stop the upward jerk of his hips. The image of Gladio with his beautiful lips around his cock is enough to start a fire in him, but the combination of Gladio’s lips moving up and down his shaft with a hand reached behind him, working himself open with his fingers… it’s an inferno that borders on over-stimulation.

“Gladiolus, slow down, _please_ , or I’m going to come,” Ignis manages between pants, his spine wrenched taut with need and his gaze locked on Gladio. He releases his grip on Gladio’s hair in favor of fisting both hands in the blankets as he watches.

Gladio lifts off Ignis’s cock with an obscene pop, a devious and beautiful smile playing about his swollen mouth. He licks his lips, jutting his tongue out enough so that the silver of his piercing flashes between them. Gladio’s own cheeks are flushed; it’s obvious from the movement of one tattooed arm and his strangled grunt that he’s still opening himself, which draws another moan from Ignis.

“Almost ready,” Gladio gasps out, dipping his head down to nuzzle Ignis’s thigh with a bearded cheek. He gives Ignis’s leaking cock a few subdued swipes of tongue but backs off after, sitting back on his knees and focusing more of his efforts on preparing himself.

Always thinking one step ahead even when his mind is fogged with pleasure, Ignis spots the abandoned bottle of lubricant and takes it for himself. He keeps his eyes on Gladio as he coats his fingers and gives his throbbing length a few perfunctory strokes, watching as Gladio bites his lip and moves his arm faster. The slick, wet sound of Gladio’s fingers moving in and out of his entrance makes Ignis’s cock jump.

“Astrals,” Ignis says, “I hope you’re planning on following through sometime today, Gladiolus.”

“So needy,” Gladio says, withdrawing his fingers and adjusting himself so that he’s straddling Ignis’s hips. Ignis lets out a blissful sigh as he feels Gladio settle his weight on him, his presence comforting and welcome. “Gods, I love you when you’re like this.”

“Naked?” Ignis asks with a sarcastic bite to the word, stretching his legs out flat on the bed and hungrily staring at the splendid form of his beloved.

“Naked,” Gladio agrees, reaching behind his back and taking Ignis’s cock in hand, lining it up with his entrance. “Naked and looking at me like I’m the only thing you need,” he adds, grunting as he takes the head of Ignis’s cock inside him.

“You _are_ the only thing I need,” Ignis breathes, reaching out to rest his hands on Gladio’s hips, urging him downward, craving more of his tight heat.

“Right now, I’d believe it,” Gladio says. “We’ll see how you feel in a bit,” he adds, seating himself fully on Ignis’s cock, tossing his head back and groaning once he pauses to adjust to Ignis being inside him. “Fuck, _fuck_ , how do you feel so fucking good no matter how much we do this?”

Ignis’s wit deserts him. He has no clever response—all he can do is gasp out his pleasure, his grip tightening on Gladio’s hips. He’s so exquisitely tight around Ignis’s cock, a feeling that only intensifies once Gladio starts moving up and down his length, the muscles of his powerful thighs rippling beneath tanned skin as he rides Ignis.

Gladio taking his pleasure from Ignis’s body like this never fails to arouse him; he is all flushed skin and flexing muscles and loud vocalization. Gladio leans back and braces himself on Ignis’s toned thighs, lifting himself until he’s almost completely off of Ignis’s cock before taking Ignis all the way to the hilt again.

Ignis’s gaze roves everywhere, from the silver stud that darts between Gladio’s lips as he licks them to the bunching muscles of Gladio’s abdomen to the dark metal bars that pierce his nipples.

There’s too much to take in at once—he’s breathtaking—but he wants one thing in particular right now.

Ignis moves the hand he used to coat himself to Gladio’s cock, touching the piercings that have been tantalizing him since Gladio took off his sweats. Speech might elude him at the moment, but Ignis has always been dexterous, and he strokes Gladio in time with the rise and fall of his hips. On each upward pass, he rubs his thumb over the studs of Gladio’s frenum ladder, the mere act of touching them sending a lance of pleasure through his groin. 

“ _Iggy_ ,” Gladio groans, gripping Ignis’s thighs hard enough to bruise and increasing his pace, “You keep doin’ that, you’re gonna make _me_ come.”

“I’m…” Ignis starts, the words choked off by a cry as Gladio starts to roll his hips mercilessly while seated on Ignis’s length. His pleasure begins to take on a familiar, intense edge as he drinks in the sight of Gladio rocking back and forth along his hips. “I’m close,” he manages, taking Gladio’s cock in a firmer grip, running his palm along the underside with ruthless precision. Precome seeps freely from Gladio’s cock now, glazed drops that Ignis swipes away with his thumb and rubs over the matching metal bars that he can’t stop staring at.

“ _Fuck_ , Ignis, _Astrals_ , oh _fuck_ —” Gladio says through gritted teeth, slamming his hips down hard on Ignis’s cock and shuddering around him. Ignis stares transfixed as Gladio begins to pulse in his hand, a low, tense growl reverberating through his chest as he comes. White ropes paint Gladio’s defined chest and Ignis’s hand—some of it drips onto the tops of Ignis’s thighs as Gladio rides out his orgasm.

It’s enough to tip Ignis over the edge himself, his own vision splintering into fragments and he thrusts up into Gladio a final time. He thinks he says Gladio’s name, but he can’t be certain, consumed by a pulse of blinding pleasure. He grabs at Gladio like he’ll fall into nothing if he doesn’t, holding onto him as he crests over his own orgasm, the sharp pleasure replaced with a more gentle warmth spreading through his limbs.

They’re both slick and sweaty as Gladio rises off of Ignis with shaking legs. He collapses beside Ignis on the bed and Ignis curls against him, heedless of the mess. They both need a shower sooner rather than later, but Ignis has learned to delay it by a few minutes to steal these blissful, relaxed moments with Gladio, moments that Ignis treasures beyond words.

“Thank you,” Ignis says, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “I needed that.”

Gladio presses a kiss to Ignis’s cheek with a quiet, breathless laugh. “I could tell, but it ain’t like it’s a chore for me either.” 

“Perhaps you should irritate me with your piercings more often if this is the result,” Ignis says.

Gladio’s laugh becomes an amused bass thrum. “Not a half bad idea, Iggy. Not a half bad idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> A humble and heartfelt thanks to Widget for creating _delightful_ artwork based on this fic, [which you can find on Tumblr by clicking this link.](https://widget-2.tumblr.com/post/171871550703/oh-aliatori-distracting-in-the-best-of)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Comments and kudos are always love. <3 You can find me on Tumblr [@aliatori](http://aliatori.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [@AliatoriEra.](https://twitter.com/AliatoriEra)


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